Some blah, blah time.
Winter is weird again.
I had a million years to accept that I might be energetic in my personality.
Which makes things happen by accident.
Some things just move or at least hum.
Maybe me.
Episodes.
I started having them the way centipedes realize hopelessness, I guess.
Episodes.
On a Monday there shouldn’t be any door hinges left, I pried them away.
And evaporated stuff that dangles like spring’s whine.
When you start having episodes.
It’s like when a wolf learns about books somehow.
And you can’t read unless you really are the one.
In a word-daze, and he can’t really get annoyed in a human way.
It was never an accident that stuff happened like crust in my eyes.
Episodes.
I can move or at least hum.
In the cloying, glazed over way that an engine wavers.
Electric loneliness.
Took a look at me like syrup.
Neurons attached to nothing-stems.
In the brain shaped way, I tried.
Took a ride like syrup sings.
Attached to my life…
And my brain is cobblestones.
With shoes made of witch’s cauldrons.
Electric loneliness.
Took me far.
Gravity gives me a pat on the back.
Songs made of table legs.
Everything I tried turned to legs.
Life of a brain’s shadow…
Electric loneliness.
Made up of centipedes.
Not in the way you’d think.
In a network-way.
Electric loneliness.
Neurons tapping away.
An Aardvark
an aardvark is a curious animal
that passes himself off as a mammal
with rabbet ears and pig snout
he is unusual looking no doubt
on ants and termites, he does feed
but not so much on centipedes
he hides by day in the ground
and comes out at night to walk around
the aardvark is an odd looker for sure
but for some he holds a strange allure
Don’t listen to that centipede.
That’s not something you need.
Pay attention to the earth’s surface.
Take a moment to look at their face.
Don’t eat corn on the cob.
It will make you sob.
Just like that small town ten miles away.
They just couldn’t keep them at bay.
Trick or take a seat.
That’s not something to eat.
Pantries are for evil things.
Do centipedes have wings?
If something doesn’t make sense?
And they charge you 50 cents.
Only pay a dime.
And they will pinch you one time.
A centipede runs very fast.
Their pinch hurts but doesn’t last.
Take a moment to let this insect grow.
That small town was all I used to know.
Take a moment to look at their face.
This is a being from outer space.
Ride a bike a hundred times.
Continuous petaling noises.
Screeching centipedes.
Underground.
Ride a bike a hundred times.
Through the tunnel.
If I existed…
Wouldn’t I have made it though by now?
Eat pizza a hundred times.
Slices which are triangles.
Tired, tired slices.
The pizza delivery man is back.
Continuous.
Or maybe not.
Into the tunnel.
Existence.
A hundred times.
Then a hundred more.
Seems continuous enough.
Flying, and unstoppable.
I learned to count that day.
I counted wrong.
It was over.
So the centipedes creep in.
Centipedes
I get centipedes, the calm ones only, to
transport my
choc buds to and
fro the walk-in pantry. I get them to
wear tiny gloves. I don’t need
their diseases.
How many shoes are there, cuz it seems the other one is always dropping?
Serpents slither here. Scorpions hide beneath our bed spreads.
Spiders, bugs, sticks, ants, and centipedes occupy our beds.
We have coasts. But what use of these? They burn with sultry heat.
Pirates sail to our harbours with their armour-filled fleet.
Predators of all kinds have filled our once lovely islands.
Where, once, flora and fauna flourished, wattles and burrs shake hands.
Our architectural castles seem to crack and collapse.
Dilapidated sanctums of temples reveal time's lapse.
Archaeologists try to explore our mausoleums.
They find noxious inland Taipans in murky museums.
Dogs bite their masters; cats, like tigers, cull their lords with claws.
Cows, bulls, and goats butt, stamp, and pin their herders for no cause.
Arrogance and aggression emblazoned by humankind
Their hearts and minds by evil thoughts, words, and deeds are maligned.
This place too is made by God, I know, like other places.
But, to cut the heads of others, here, each one runs races.
A fly that always evades us.
We are in a rush.
With no time to kill a fly.
One that is already about to die.
So we leave it to land on the sink.
We leave the house to get away and think.
Flys, wasps, and other horrible things.
Are what the outdoors seem to bring.
We always get a swarm.
Which happens when it’s warm.
Opening the screen drives me mad.
Why are the mosquitoes so bad?
Why is it never a pretty butterfly?
Why is it only the gross bugs that get inside?
Centipedes and spiders.
I don’t like either.
But when I see a fly in a web…
Maybe some bugs are better instead.
Fresh cut grass smells of watermelon
Colors spotted winged butterfly rainbow
Beautiful colorful wings
Evanescence all the times that remain
Crisp and clean fresh is the morning do rain
Ants workers scampering busy as they toil progression
Centipedes lots of feet they run to here and throw belly laughs the Clown as he's falling to the ground circus is in time the joy of children scream playing running amok on the sand cover playground
The world of insects is adither and abuzz
About the biggest party bash that ever was.
Their favorite time is near,
It comes just once a year,
The Annual Ugly Bug Ball.
Caterpillars, centipedes, and honeybees
Are sprucing up and rubbing rouge upon their knees.
Their costumes are brand new,
And soon they're going to
The Annual Ugly Bug Ball.
Moths and butterflies are practicing their dips,
The Arachnida are limbering up their hips,
And ants who love to dance
Hope they'll find romance
At this year's Ugly Bug Ball.
Both the mantises are planning to be there,
Such an elegant, sophisticated pair.
The husband is ideal
As dancing partner and a meal.
One mating tango, though, and he'll have done his share.
When the time comes they'll start streaming toward the hall,
Some will flutter, others scurry, creep, or crawl.
They'll frolic until break of day
To music the cicadas play
At the Annual Ugly Bug Ball.
Flora and fauna of birds, beasts, microbes, soils, atmospheres,
Should only these contribute to the forest components?
Height and densities of trees and plants, and their thriving years...
Aren't silver, gold, diamonds, and gems woodland endowments?
Who cares much for herbs and shrubs where tiny insects abide?
Flies, bees, frogs, rodents, bats, and rats playfully hide and seek.
Ants, crickets, grasshoppers, centipedes, and millipedes hide
Behind grass, leaves, and mud to escape threats as they are weak.
With animals, vegetation, and evergreen landscapes
Air to breathe, food, medicines, wood, and fodder they provide
Forests reduce pollutants in air, water, sound, and space.
Protect humans from floods, droughts, soil erosion, and landslides.
Though like a student in primary school, I might recite
Abiding midst a forest is a venturous delight.
Multi-legs frighten me!
Centipedes and spiders make me jump on a chair-
up I flee!
Each of them scores!
Creepy legs crawl, then run- huge scare
deplores!
Fear streams
as my lungs blare
screams!
Multi-legs frighten me!
Creepy legs crawl, then run- huge scare
screams!
monsoon
velvet mites appear
roam as though lost their mates ---
blood-red carpets spread
flies sip my teacup
to get a taste of my lip ---
some linger so long
white ants don't enter
as my mesh nets don't allow ---
mosquitoes set, yet...
midst cockroaches creep
centipedes and millipedes ---
calm leeches suck blood
Don't look for feet, do they need them?
Why look for heads, when tails would do?
Why search for bipeds when centipedes crawl so well?
Why should they look anything like us?
Heaven forbid!
For alien is extraneous by definition
They are probably already here among us now!
How could we ever know?
Especially when we are looking in the wrong places
For beings kinda like us, not truly oddball, weird, otherworldly,
Aliens are well beyond are sensibilities
well beyond the reach of our puny
earthling senses, scopes and scope.
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